


To Travel By Train

by runningsissors



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Hogwarts Era, Second Wizarding War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 07:46:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18687175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runningsissors/pseuds/runningsissors
Summary: "Ginny frowned. It wasn’t just a silly compartment. It was the perfect compartment and she wasn’t going to let Malfoy bully her out of it for another year."





	To Travel By Train

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dgficexchange @ livejournal in 2010 under a different title. Recovered as I was cleaning out my dropbox.

**One**

 

Ginny shoved her way past another large body and scrambled into the empty compartment on her left. Years of watching her brothers go through this had taught her that one must be ruthless when it came to compartment hunting. Fred and George had taken her aside the night before to explain the logic behind the perfect compartment. The ones in the front, where all the rest first years tend to get clumped together were nice but about as fun as watching mum knit. And the end compartments where a no go too, according to Fred. Only couples went to the end compartments for well – coupley things.

  
Ginny couldn’t help but blush all over at the thought of someday sitting in the rear compartments with Harry Potter.

 

She first thought she would sit with Ron and Harry, but then the whistle was being blown, and mum was stuffing her onto the train with hugs and kisses, and she didn’t even get time to search for them. She flopped down onto a seat with a sigh. It was a nice compartment, as far as compartments went. It was close to the loos and faced the west. Which meant the sun wouldn’t be glaring down through the windows, making the small space stuffy and hot.

 

Ginny smiled to herself. Yes, it was an excellent compartment indeed.

 

She kicked her shoes off; tucking her legs under her, and reached into her satchel for her new copy of _Voyages with Vampires_. She still couldn’t believe Harry had just given her the entire collection, signed by Gilderoy Lockhart and all. He was just the nicest boy Ginny had ever met.

 

The whole train was filled with the sound of loud chatter and laughter as friends caught up. Ginny felt a little jealous. She didn’t have any friends of her own, all of them had been muggle neighbours, and now she was all alone.

  
“Don’t be such a pounce, Crabbe,” she heard a boy scoffed as they approached her door, “Of course the Harpies are the worst team in the league. Their name says it all.”

 

She giggled, who would name their child Crabbe? That was a horrible name. Although so was Ginevra, so she supposed she had no room to judge.

 

Suddenly there was a soft click, and the compartment door slid open. Ginny looked up and felt her stomach drop. That awful boy from _Flourish and Blotts_ was standing there with two large boys flanked on either side of him. She could feel her face growing hot. The boy’s lip curled into a snarl, and his cold, bright eyes glared at her. His pale blonde hair slicked back from his face, and his clothes were crisp and pressed neatly.

  
“What are you doing in here?” he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. Ginny could see his Slytherin crest gleaming against the black of his robes, just like before.

 

“Sitting of course.” She clutched her book tight to her chest, “there was no one in here, so I took it.”

 

“Well, it’s ours, so get out,” snapped the boy. “You’re in our compartment, and we’re not looking to share with little first year’s.”

 

The boy…what was his name again. She could remember Ron swearing up and down, cursing him over and over. Malcolm? No…Malone maybe?

 

“I didn’t see any luggage in it, so unless your name is somewhere engraved on the walls, you’ll have to find somewhere else to sit,” she said, trying to look as menacing as she could.

 

The boy glowered at her for a moment, before his featured slid into a mocking smirk. “I know you,” he said contemptuously, “you’re Potter’s little girlfriend, aren’t you?”

 

Ginny flushed, staring down at her knees.

 

“That’s right,” the blonde boy said again, obviously enjoying her embarrassment, “you’re that little dirty thing that was protecting snivelling Potter.”

 

 _“_ Malfoy _,”_ said the boy on his right, “want me to throw her out?” He smirked at her, making her face whiten in fear.

 

“Why not,” said the Malfoy boy, that smirk still plastered to his face, “she’ll be missing precious Potter, anyway.”

 

Ginny went to protest, but the thuggish looking boy on Malfoy’s right stepped into the compartment and picked her up right off the seat.

 

“Hey!” she cried, squirming and kicking against him as he hauled her out. He dropped her out in the hallway, with a soft thump to the floor. Her luggage accompanied her on the ground a few seconds later by the similar looking burly boy that had been on Malfoy’s left. She pushed her messed red hair from her face and positively glared daggers at the boys. A clump of students were staring at her, and she could feel her cheeks burning. Just as she began to pick herself up, there was another soft click of the compartment sliding open, and she looked up to see the Malfoy boy smirking at her again.

 

"You forgot this,” he said, dropping her copy of _Voyages with Vampires_ to the floor beside her and her luggage. He went to close the door back behind him, but at the last moment changed his mind popped his head back out. “Oh, and be sure to tell Potter and his pathetic friends that I send my regards.”

 

The two bulking boys sniggered behind him, and he smirked at her one last time before closing the door of the final time. With angry tears burning in her eyes, Ginny picked herself up. She didn’t take that kind of rubbish from her brothers, and she certainly wasn’t going to take it from a boy whose head looked like it had been dunked in wax.

 

With a glance over her shoulder, she tromped down the aisle way, and back up to the front of the car to join the rest of the first years.

 

 

 

  
  
**Two**    
  
  
With one final wave to her mum, Ginny stepped carefully onto the train, before picking up her pace and hurrying down the aisle way; her truck clunking along behind her.

 

“Oy, watch it!” someone yelled behind her, as she wheeled over the toe of their shoe. She just waved it off and continued her fast speed.

 

“…F2…F4…F6,” she smiled with satisfaction. “Ha, bloody ha,” she sniggered. She’d beaten him here, the poncy git. 

 

Suddenly there was a meaty hand digging into her shoulder, and she let out a cry of pain. She was still pretty burnt from Egypt. "Well, look here,” Malfoy drawled, smacked right in between those two sodding toadies, one of which who was still clutching her shoulder, that seemed to follow him everywhere. He smirked at her, “sucked up quite enough UV rays have you, Weasley?”

 

Ginny flushed, the blush creeping up to her ears. “Oh, stuff it,” she huffed, rubbing at her shoulder, “get off me!”

 

“Now, now, little girl,” Malfoy taunted, “Surely you should have learned from last time. Or is it that you just like being shooed out like the pest you are?”

 

“Shut your pasty gob,” she snapped. “Does your mother know you need bodyguards to pick on girls who are half your size?”

 

Malfoy’s nostrils flared, “Why you little…” And then the lights flickered off, and the train lurched to a stop. Ginny stumbled backwards into the dummy that had a grip on her shoulder, and Malfoy into the other one flanking him.

 

“What’s happening?” he hissed in a panicked tone.

 

“I dunno, the lights went off. I can’t see nothin’,” spoke the goonish looking boy who caught Malfoy.

 

“Shut-up, Crabbe,” Malfoy snapped.

 

The rain was now pounding down onto the windows. Ginny could hear the wind howling desperately.  Malfoy’s friend tightened his grip on her shoulder, and she winced, a small noise escaping her mouth.

 

“...alright?” he whispered in a small voice.

 

“You’re hurting my shoulder,” she hissed, her teeth clenched tight.

 

Ginny could immediately feel the boy release his grip on her burned shoulder. “...sorry,” he mumbled.

 

“Goyle,” Malfoy snapped in a hushed tone, “don’t waste your breath apologizing to a Weasley. They don’t know anything about civil behaviour.”

 

“Sod off, Malfoy,” Ginny snarled, fumbling around for her luggage. Once securely in her hand, she pushed her way through the three boys, making sure to nick Malfoy’s shin as she passed him. Malfoy whimpered, and though she couldn’t see, she was sure he was rubbing at his injured leg.

 

“Who was that?” he gasped. She sniggered and kept going. “What’s that sound? Are you leaving, Weasley? Where are you going?” his voice sounded small and almost frightened.

 

“To find my brother,” she responded, her fingers moving along the grain of the wood panelled wall to help guide herself.

 

“That won’t be hard,” he snarled back, his voice already sounding far away from her as she continued to walk, “you have like, twenty of them.”

 

“Eat dirt, you prat,” and with that she stomped off into the dark, leaving the three boys outside the compartment for yet another year.  


 

 

 

**Three**

 

  
Ginny already knew she’d lost the compartment this year, even before she stepped onto the train. Mum and Charlie had prattled on too long, and Bill had given her too big of a hug for her to make it in time.

 

Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had surely snatched the coveted prize compartment F8.

 

She and Hermione shuffled onto the train, with Crookshanks trying to squirm his way out of Hermione’s iron-like grip. Ginny bounced on the balls of her heels, surveying the dense cluster of students in front of her. A few girls were giggling about like... well daff little girls, hugging each other and taking up the entire space. Ginny let out a breathy sigh of frustration and stamped her foot.

 

“Are you all right?” Hermione asked, shifting her grasp on her flailing cat. “You seem to be agitated or something.”

 

“I’m fine,” Ginny snapped back, maybe just a little too harshly, swiping at her fringe.

 

Hermione shot a quick look over her shoulder, then leaned into Ginny ear. “It’s not a Harry issue, is it? Because I thought we had already discussed this at the Cup...”

 

Ginny blushed. “This has nothing to do with Harry.” She stamped her foot one more time, before throwing her hands up and stretching up onto the tips of her toes. “There’s no bloody way we’re getting it now.”

 

“Get what? Ouch!” Crookshanks’ paw shot out, his nail scratching against Hermione’s wrist. She wrestled to keep control of him for a moment before turning back to Ginny. “What are you trying to get?”

 

“The compartment,” Ginny replied in a distracted manner, her head scanning the crowd of students in front of them.

 

“What compartment?”

 

“My compartment that Malfoy takes from me every damn year,” Ginny huffed, reaching up onto the balls of her feet again so she could see over the tall boy in front of her.

 

“Oy,” she called out to the gaggle of girls, “this isn’t a gabfest, go into a bloody compartment if you want to chat. You’re blocking the aisle way.” A few of the girls shot Ginny a venomous look, but obliged her sharp request and moved.

 

“Ginny,” hissed Hermione, “it’s just a silly compartment. We need to find Harry and your brother anyway.”

 

Ginny frowned. It wasn’t just a silly compartment. It was the perfect compartment, and she wasn’t going to let Malfoy bully her out of it for another year. Hermione just didn’t understand. She didn’t get that it was more than just about the compartment.

 

It was about beating Malfoy and getting to shove it in his boney pale face.

 

They were moving now, and Ginny knew they were getting closer. She could see the sign for the lavatory up ahead. Her heart began to pulse wildly in her chest. They’d be there no doubt. Malfoy would spy her, and the great git would smirk that big, git like smirk of his at her and flaunt his win for the third year in a row and...

 

“Ginny!” Hermione snapped, pulling her entirely from her thoughts. “I was asking your opinion on what Charlie could know about what’s happening at Hogwarts.”

 

Ginny blushed again, “Oh, sorry. Hogwarts. Yeah, um, I haven’t the foggiest idea what Charlie’s on about.”

 

Hermione shot her an exasperated look. “Well, it’s just so frustrating. What could he possibly know? I haven’t read anything in the Prophet that would suggest something out of the ordinary would be occurring at Hogwarts this school term and... oh, hello, Pansy.” Ginny snapped her head up to see a small dark haired girl glowering at them. She resembled something like one of those little loud barking dogs that Aunty Muriel use to own, with her nose upturned like someone had stuck one of Ron’s smelly socks under it.

 

“Shove it, Granger. You’re in my way.”

 

Ginny could see her friend’s spine straighten like she was preparing herself for a battle of some sort. “A simple ‘excuse me’ would have sufficed. Do they not teach manners in _Slytherin_?”

 

Ginny snickered, and Pansy shot her a deathly glare. “Still got a textbook shoved up your arse?” she spat back, smirking in victory when Hermione’s cheeks grew pink. “Stupid Gryffindors can dish it out, but fluster at a simple retort.”

 

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but stopped when the compartment closest to Ginny slid open.

 

“Where’s my pumpkin juice, Pansy? I sent you out ten minutes ago.” A few moments later ahead of silvery blonde hair popped out and Ginny felt her ears heat.

 

“Well, look what we’ve got here,” drawled Malfoy, his formerly annoyed expression sliding into its malicious sneer at the sight of her and Hermione. “A weasel and a dirty mudblood. I don’t remember asking for you to pick me up any trash, Pansy.”

 

Ginny cheeks burned, and she could feel Hermione stiffen beside her. She’d never actually heard anybody call someone a mudblood, though she was familiar with the term.

 

Pansy practically simpered that the sight of Malfoy and disgustingly smiled at him. “Granger thought she could get mouthy with me, Draco. That simply won’t do.”

 

Ginny watched as Malfoy eyed Hermione with distaste, before turning his eyes on her and smirking.

 

“Seems I’ve beaten you again, little Weasley. When will you ever learn?” Pansy snickered at that, batting her lashes at Malfoy like a right twit.

 

“Go take a flying leap off a high broomstick, Malfoy” she snapped, anger filling every pore in her body. “I wouldn’t want that compartment even if it were the only one in the entire train not infested with sneezing powder.”

 

Malfoy raised a brow at her, “is that so?”

 

“Yeah, that’s so,” she bristled, “I wouldn’t touch anything you’ve had your evil paws on.”

 

Malfoy’s brow knit, his eyes glaring at her. “Then I guess you’d better clear off and find your _precious_ Potter.” Putting extra emphasis and venom into the last two words.

 

Ginny’s blushed deepened, her mind reeling for a good comeback as Pansy brushed past her and into her beloved compartment F8 to join Malfoy and his goons. With one final satisfactory smirk, Malfoy closed the door; stopping to wink at Ginny before pulling the blind over the window and completely shutting them out. The two girls stood there for a moment, each fuming in their anger and embarrassment before they were interrupted by Ron’s head popping out of a compartment further down the aisle.

 

“Are you two coming in or what?” 

 

 

 

  
  
  
**Four**

 

Their eyes caught on the platform for just a moment. Mum was blubbering on about safety and lecturing Ron and Harry about staying out of trouble, and she’d looked over to see Malfoy’s mother patting his cheek lovingly. She frowned because; well she’d never really pictured Malfoys as being able to show any signs of affection. She watched as he shook his father’s hand next, and marvelled at just how much they looked alike.

 

Then Mum was shoving her off with hugs and kisses, and she stumbled into the crowd of students trying to push their way onto the train.

 

Malfoy caught her eye and smirked. His lips were curling in that vicious manner that she’d grown accustomed to seeing. She could feel her heart begin to pound. They’d never spoken outside of the train before, not really. He didn’t even acknowledge her at school. What was he playing at here?

 

She watched with pursed lips as he sneered at her, his body already moving in her direction. She could feel her body stiffening as it got ready for the defence.

 

“Ginny!”

  
At the call of her name, she whipped around to almost crash heads with Michael. “Hullo,” he smiled at her, leaning down to kiss her cheek sweetly. Ginny grinned, her heart slowly steadying to an average pace.

 

“Hi.”

 

She quickly threw a glance over her shoulder at the boy who’d been about to taunt her. Malfoy now had his eyes to the ground like something was fascinating on the cobblestone, his hands fisted tightly at his sides, and a deep frown was stretching his lips. If she squinted, she could almost see a tiny pigment of colour in his pale cheeks.

 

“So,” Michael began, taking her hand in his, “I thought we’d sit with my mates, is that all right with you?” 

 

That bint Pansy Parkinson was at Malfoy's arm now, her hands flying about as her mouth flapped away at what Ginny was sure was total shite. Malfoy gave Pansy a pinched look, and then suddenly he was looking straight at her. His eyes were piercing into her and making her skin crawl.  

 

“Ginny?” Ginny snapped her head back to find Michael staring at her expectantly.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry. What did you say?”

 

Michael rolled his eyes. “We’re sitting with my mates, yeah?”

 

Ginny cast one last glance at the now empty space where Malfoy and Pansy had been. Hermione was right; this whole thing really was childish and stupid.

  
“Sure, that sounds fine.”

 

 

 

  
  
**Five**

 

The sun warmed her bare legs stretched out over the seat. Ginny picked at a chip in her fluorescent pink nail varnish, while a photo of Oliver Wood smiled charmingly at her from the latest edition of _Witch Weekly_.

 

“Didn’t your mother ever teach you to keep your feet off the furniture?” drawled a voice from the door frame.

 

“Hullo, Malfoy,” Ginny replied, her eyes never leaving the page as she began flipping through an article about The Weird Sisters’ last concert in Budapest. She could see him cross his arms tight over his chest out of the corner of her eye.

 

“You’re right, what a ridiculous question. Don’t answer it. Of course, Weasels don’t know any manners. You’re barely house trained I’d bet.”

 

Ginny gritted her teeth, a nasty come back was scratching at the back of her throat, but she wouldn’t let him get the best of her this time. She flipped through another page in a half-interested manner, before turning her gaze onto the boy in front of her.

 

“Did you want something? Or were you just looking to exchange pleasantries with me?”

 

Malfoy’s lip curled into a smirk, his eyes glinting in the light of the afternoon sun. “Tell you what, little weasel,” he said, stepping into the compartment and taking a seat across from her, “I’m feeling charitable, so I might be willing to share the compartment with you this year.”

 

Ginny fixed him with a glare. “Well seeing as how I was sitting here-” she stretched her legs out a little more for emphasis, “reading long before you came along, Malfoy, you’re not really in the position to be making compromises with me. Especially now without your muscle to do your dirty work.”

 

Malfoy leaned back, his head resting against the support of the seat and continued to smirk at her. “Look, I’m just trying to do the gentlemanly thing here.” His eyes scanned her for a moment, “I could just as easily throw you out _again_. I’m much bigger than you are.”

 

Ginny glowered at him, and her ears felt hot. “As I recall, you got Crabbe to chuck me onto the floor brutishly. You did nothing but stand there and giggle like a little poltergeist.”

 

To Ginny’s surprise Malfoy chuckled at this, “Yes, well, I don’t quite care about your _filthiness_ rubbing off on me nearly as much as I did when I was twelve.” He leered at her, his lips twisting into a crooked kind of smirk that made Ginny’s stomach jump into her throat. Surely he couldn’t have meant his comment to sound like Ginny thought it had.

 

“Oh,” she said quickly, her cheeks flaming up, “well I’m still as much of a dirty Weasley as I was back then.” She felt his eyes scan down her body – stopping on her legs for a long beat. She quickly tugged down on her denim skirt and blushed.

 

“Your chest is blushing, Weasley,” he said, indicating with the nod of his head to the reddening skin of her cleavage showing over the neck of her shirt.

 

“Fuck off, Malfoy,” she snapped, curtaining her face with her hair to hide her embarrassment. “I don’t want to compromise with you. Get out. And besides, we both know how confrontations end between of us, now.” It was her turn to smirk triumphantly at him, “Your nose still feeling a little sore?”

 

Malfoy scowled, sitting up in his seat, “Think you’re clever don’t you, Weasley? Think you’ve got one on me all because you somehow managed to hit me with a childish jinx?”

 

He was standing now, his tall, lean body towering over her. “Well you’re wrong,” he snarled, “I’ve got more power than you could ever imagine and a little Bat-Bogey Hex isn’t going-”

 

“Oy! Is there an issue here, Gin?”

 

Both heads turned to see Dean standing at the still opened doorway with a hard look on his face. Malfoy took a step back and snarled at nothing in particular.

 

Ginny gave her boyfriend a small grin. “No, nothing’s wrong. Malfoy stumbled into the wrong compartment is all. He was just leaving,” she turned to the blonde boy, glaring at him, “weren’t you Malfoy?” The last part sounded more like a demand than a question.

 

Malfoy stiffened when Dean stepped into the compartment. The two boys exchanged a tense look. Watching from Ginny’s point of view was odd. Malfoy was a very tall bloke, but compared to Dean he was tiny. Dean towered over him.

 

Malfoy stared icily at Dean as Dean moved Ginny legs from the seat, and placed them on his lap as he sat down. His brows furrowed, creating a crease down the centre. His eyes flitted between the way Dean’s hand gently traced patterns into her calves, and the toe of his polished shoe before he finally regained his aristocratic stance and presented the couple with his most charming smirk.

 

“Weasley and I were just discussing a rather fond memory I have of her getting thrown on her arse in her first year,” Malfoy said ruefully, sneering at Ginny. His hard cold eyes were making her feel flushed and nervous.

 

Dean gave Ginny a confused look but said nothing.

 

“Time for you to leave, Malfoy,” Ginny restated, beginning to feel more uncomfortable with each passing second he stood with her and Dean. “I’m sure you’re familiar with where the door is located.”

 

Malfoy gave her a long hard look. His thin lips curling into a grimace, the hollowness of his cheekbones, the ferocity of his slate coloured eyes – it gave her the chills. He looked at her like... well she wasn’t even sure. She just knew she’d never received quite a look like whatever he gave her in all her life. It left her winded, and all turned up inside. It left her stomach in tight knots.

 

He slowly stood, brushing off his crisp black robes and stepped out into the corridor.

 

“See you around, Weasley,”

 

 

 

  
**Six**

 

Ginny's heart was pounding in her chest. Luna hadn’t returned from the bathroom and Neville, and she had split up in search of their friend. She cast another glance over her shoulder as she continued down the corridor. No one could be trusted, and she had enough to worry about without having to handle Luna’s oddities.

 

“Oy, you Gryffindor,” someone called from a compartment as she stalked by, “where do you think you’re going?” 

 

She stopped; scrunching her chuckles tight, and took a deep calming breath. “Just looking for an empty loo.”

 

The boy; a Slytherin Prefect in her year, gave her a cold glare. “All students are to stay in their compartments through the duration of the mandatory inspection. I could dock points.”

 

Ginny scoffed, “for trying to find a bloody loo? I think not.” She turned sharply on her heel and continued down the aisle way.

 

“Hey!” yelled the boy after her, “what am I, talking to a Blast-Ended Skrewt? Get back here!”  Ginny quickened her pace, keeping her head cast down to her feet and walked unceremoniously into something hard. She blinked away her confused look to find Draco Malfoy staring blankly back at her.

 

Her stomach dropped to her shoes at the sight of him. Malfoy looked haggard, with dark bruised skin jumped out at her from under his left eye.

 

“What are you staring at?” He snapped in a hushed voice, bowing his head to avoid her eyes. She felt like her mouth was full of toffee -sticky and hard to swallow.

 

“Nothing,” she snapped back, blushing as the Prefect she’d been avoiding came barrelling up to them.

 

“That’ll be twenty points from Gryffindor for violating school policy and five more for disobeying a Prefect.” The boy looked over at Malfoy and nodded, “you can escort her back to her compartment, Malfoy, right?” Malfoy scowled but said nothing. He nodded and looked back down at the floor in annoyance.

 

The Prefect gave Ginny one last hard look before he pushed his way past the two of them, and entered the next compartment. They were alone in the aisle way now. Ginny peered at Malfoy for what felt like an eternity.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked harshly, gazing at him intently. He ignored her question, ignored her presence. Ginny huffed in frustration, tossing her hair back from her face and continued down the aisle way.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Malfoy called after her.

 

“To find my friend,” she snapped back exasperated. “Neville and I are out looking for her. She never came back from the loo, and I’m worried something’s happened.”

 

He took a few steps forward, then a few more after that. “Longbottom can find your daft friend by himself. You’re coming with me.” He stalked over and grabbed onto her wrist. “Besides, if it's Looney Lovegood she’s probably just fallen down the pipework knowing how dotty that cow is.”

 

She could have fought it. Could have hit Malfoy or kicked him, or done something to stop him from pulling her down the aisle way, but she didn’t. “That’s not funny,” she snapped instead, staring at him with a boggled expression as he tugged her into his compartment.

 

_F8_

 

The numbering glared at her as they stepped into the small room. She was finding it hard to remember why this had been so important to her. It all seemed quite stupid now. She stared at Malfoy's back, as he slid the door shut with a soft click, and then he whirled around to face her.

 

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” He snapped, “They’re just looking for ways to get students like you in trouble, and prowling around on your own is a damn good way of going about doing it.” She gapped at him in complete surprise. There had been no way to expect this. 

 

He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s dangerous out there, and you bloody Gryffindors with your guts and your glory are going to get yourselves killed.”

 

He tugged at his tie; she noticed how boney his wrist was as it slipped from behind his cuff.

 

“Why do you care?” she asked, crossing her hands tight over her body. “So I get myself killed. It shouldn’t matter to you. I’m the enemy.”

  
“I don’t have an enemy,” he snapped, staring at her with wide frantic eyes. “Not anymore. It’s just about trying to survive at this point.”

  
She snorted, “The Draco Malfoy I know always has enemies. It’s what Slytherins do. He doesn’t just stand there and let a sixth year order him around--”

  
“And what, have McNair tell his father that I was a snobby prat? I already have a death wish hanging over my head. I don’t need another reason to have them all after my family.”

  
She plopped down onto the seat, smirking maliciously at him, “What, decide being an attempted murderer isn’t quite what it’s cut out to be?”

  
He met her eye for a moment, and his lips twitched. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.”

  
She eyed him suspiciously, “Well the Draco Malfoy I know certainly doesn’t look out for Gryffindors.”

  
“I’m not,” he snapped quickly. “Just you.”

  
She gapped at him, “Why? That makes absolutely no sense.”

  
He slumped down into the seat across from her, running his hands through his hair again. “Because I hate you. I hate everything about you and what you stand for. So I have to help you. Your plaits taunt me, so to speak.”

  
“What?”

  
He jumped up onto his feet and began to pace. “You don’t get it, Weasley. You don’t know me at all; you’re just such a little blind bird. I like you- I mean, rather- I enjoyed berating you, and I liked the way your cheeks would redden and the way your eyes would darken when you were angry, so I made fun of you to get a rise out of you.”

  
She stared at him in complete confusion, “I don’t understand...”

  
He threw his hands up in the air and growled, “No, of course, you wouldn’t because it’s sick and twisted and I’m a mess... but I couldn’t give a centaur’s arse about compartments or proper lighting. I just wanted to watch you get mad, and I thought I was so obvious about everything...”

  
She watched with wide eyes as he paced some more. Her head was spinning, it was tugging in a thousand different directions, and she needed to lie down.

  
“...So you don’t actually like this compartment?”

  
At this, he stopped his moments. Everything stopped. He looked at her for just a moment. Just a moment in which he dropped the smirk and the cold mean eyes and the vicious words and just looked at her.

 

Then he lurched forward, craned her neck up, caught her jaw with the soft, clammy palm of his hand and pressed his lips to hers like a seal. His lips felt cool against her mouth and tasted like mint and the green apples which she always used to see him eat, and it was by no means the best kiss she’d ever had in her life, but it was definitely in the top five.

 

When they pulled apart for air, she let out a breathy _“Oh,”_ before blushing and tugging him back to her opened mouth.

 

 

  
  
**Seven**

 

“Ron, do try to pay attention. We’ve only got four more hours before the train pulls into Hogsmeade Station, and you’re nowhere near prepared for Potions.”

 

Ron wiped the drool from the window he’d just been sleeping against and gave Hermione a sheepish smile.

  
“Sorry, ‘ermione,” he mumbled, “guess I just zonked out for a second or somethin’...”

 

Ginny and Harry sniggered.

 

“Actually,” Luna stated dreamily, peering out from behind her upside down copy of the Quibbler, “you fell asleep about a half hour or so ago and Hermione didn’t even realize it. We were waiting to see how long it would take her to notice she wasn’t talking to anyone.”

 

She turned to Harry and tilted her head, “I owe you a nugget, Harry for betting wrong.”

 

Hermione gave Harry a perturbed look, and he cleared his throat. “Ah... right, um, thanks, Luna.” She smiled at him then brought the Quibbler back up to mask her face.

 

Ginny grinned to herself, playing with a loose strand of her hair. The sun felt warm against her skin and left the whole space with this cheery pleasant vibe. It was quite a nice compartment if she did say so herself.

 

“What are you grinning like a loon at?” Ron called, placing a small kiss on Hermione’s cheek when she gave him a pointed look of ‘concentrate, or I’ll hurt you.’

 

“Oh, nothing,” she replied twirling another piece around her finger. “I’m just happy, I guess.”

 

“I’d be quite happy, too if a boy snogged me silly behind a large pile of luggage,” Luna said in her dreamy quality from behind the Quibbler. “Does Draco have nice hands, Ginny? He looks like the sort of chap to have nice long delicate hands.”

 

“Luna!” Ginny gasped, flushing brightly, “I..uh..umm...”

 

Ron looked like he was about to sick. “Oh no.” He stated, throwing out his hands as if to stop something from knocking into him, “I don’t wanna hear about my little sister and that ferret going at it. This conversation stops right here!”

 

Harry shifted in his seat uncomfortably and cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yes, who’s excited for Quidditch?”

 

Hermione tittered from her notebook, “Honestly, Ron,” she said in an exasperated manner, “it’s not like you don’t understand... you’ve seen the bright marks on her neck all summer.”

 

“Hermione!” Both Weasley’s hollered, each turning an equally embarrassing shade of pink.

 

“What?” she stated simply, “Ginny and I always talk about these kinds of things with each other. I don’t see what’s so taboo about it.”

 

“All right,” Ron bellowed, his ears having gone crimson by this point. “All discussions of topics you wouldn’t bring up with your mum stop here. I am trying to study my potions, and you’re all distracting me.”

 

Ginny grinned to herself. Maybe she’d save telling Ron what she and Draco had done on the seat bench he was currently sitting on until after they’d all gotten off the train.

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt:
> 
> Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: a happy ending :D I'd like to see the object of conflict meaning the world to them both but it's something their friends would roll their eyes at  
> The tone/mood of the fic: something light-hearted and snarky would be cool  
> An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: more involvement of side characters, for e.g. Draco and Ginny's friends from their respective Houses; also, lots of dialogue would be nice if possible  
> Preferred rating of the fic you want: anything up to PG-13  
> Canon or AU? Either is fine with me, especially if the author should need to tweak canon details  
> Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): evil!Harry


End file.
